


Phlox

by shiroihachisu



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Flower Shop, F/M, M/M, Reincarnation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-05
Updated: 2013-10-05
Packaged: 2017-12-28 10:57:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/991231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shiroihachisu/pseuds/shiroihachisu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Flower shop reincarnation au, Eren works at a flower shop and one day a man steps inside who brings with him a key to Eren’s memories.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Phlox

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this many weeks ago but after reading the CUTE 'Love Language' here, I wanted to edit and post. This pairing has too many sad endings so this one is going to be happy. I tried my best despite writer's block and that I don't have any natural talent for this kind of thing haha. So there are mistakes. Please don’t judge me too harshly!!

The little shop is somewhat a place of marvel to some, where among many, many others, flowers of dying vermillion and pale sunrises and vivid violet-blues meet the keen drift of a man’s inhale. The delicate fragrance is almost overpowering, cloying. There, the silence in the room is tranquil and yet not quite complete with the perpetual way the soft rustles of precise effort break the piercing peace.

Nimble fingers brush across the countertop surface, reaching past to the back to retrieve a piece that will balance the bouquet. Ambrosia. Deep plum ambrosia to balance the pastel pale cardamine, vibrant marigold and another delicate blossom Eren never bothers to acquire the name of.

It is surely a funeral arrangement, he thinks with a frown.

While he’s made a few for apologetic reasons, this is the first one he makes which speaks of grief and death and sorrow.

He reaches for the store’s signature wrapping paper (lilac and clear), neatly arranging it with the gold ribbon that goes with it. The last of the ribbon curls in double loops, Eren’s hand perfects it.

Despite that it is clearly intended for someone’s anguish, the young man enjoys making these. It is peaceful and there is an acute lack of judgement from prying eyes, not that he ever cares overly much for what people think. There are never large quantities of people wandering into the store and though the type of people venturing in are agreeable, it's a stupidly comforting thought – that flowers hold no decree of their own making.

At least for a time.

The sudden steps of another person entering the room takes his attention from the arrangement momentarily and turquoise eyes appear wide as he peers over his shoulder to greet her.

“Ah – Eren! You’re almost finished?”

He directs a nod to Christa’s inquiring gaze.

“Yeah, it’s nearly done…just about–” There is a small card next to the flower, white, gold, and lavender (a match to the signature wrapping) that he tucks into one of the folds of the mournful arrangement.

“–Now.” He hands it to her, smiling sheepishly.

Christa’s eyes brighten; lips quirking into a smile.

“Thanks Eren, you can take your break now, I’ll take over for now. I just had a small lunch so don’t worry about me.”

“Great. I’ll be back in half an hour then.”

“Hmm, hmm,” he hears from Christa as she turns to sit on the stool he vacates.

He bids her a farewell as he leaves the backroom and uses the flower shop’s front entrance to leave for his break.

He never wanders too far seeing no point in wanting to rush back late when his shift starts during the lunch hours composed of inevitable long line-ups and waiting.

The bistro he frequents is just down the street across from them. It's a short walk but is lengthy enough for him to see vaguely familiar figures moving around him where he walks. Having gone for break at this time for the same days most weeks, he supposes it is to be expected he sees some familiar faces. The businesswoman with the neat strawberry blonde hair crosses the street the same time he does, phone pressed to her ear by her right hand and latte carried in the other. The elderly man who walks at a slower pace usually falls behind Eren, his cane in hand but still a smile on his face while he takes his granddaughter to where Eren suspects is the park two blocks down. These are people he never pays attention to in any concentrated amounts, people he takes in in a half-interested, bored manner on days he actually bothers not to lose himself in useless reverie.

Most of the time, they are the few who coincidentally always walk the closest to him despite the lunchtime rush of being close to a corporate area.

Turquoise-green eyes squint against the sun, face shooting downward in order to evade it to no avail.

_I’ll bring sunglasses tomorrow._

_Like Mikasa said to this morning._

And like it’s the simple thought of his adopted sister that summons her, his vibrating phone displays her name on the screen. He isn’t allowed to ignore that so picks up, presses the device to his ear a similar way to how the woman does earlier.

“Hey,” he greets as she speaks his name first.

“Eren,” he hears, “Are you on break yet? Armin and I are going to the bookstore down the street from the flower shop and…”

He’s listening to her, really, he is, but it is this moment where the back of the distinguishable man with the thin black briefcase emerges out of the thinning crowd. His ebony hair is an undercut, a crop Eren hasn’t seen in businessmen recently (or ever if he's honest) and the small form that should seem delicate just seems stable – able to hold his ground – if the way he holds his weight while he walks says anything. There is something about him, but what it is Eren doesn’t know. He doesn’t know the man.

“Eren, did you hear me?”

He’s a stranger to him even in looks because Eren has also never seen his face.

Only his back.

The man is one of those who Eren recognizes, constantly a pace ahead of him while they cross Strasse Street. Disappearing before Eren can ever overtake him or wonder about him.

This time though, he’s enough ahead for Eren to hear what the man’s saying into his own black mobile, something along the lines of _I’m coming out of my way to meet you for lunch this week again, hold your fucking horses, shitty glasses! I can perfectly be ten minutes late_ with no real bite toward whoever he’s speaking with on the other side.

And if those words really are from the lips he’s never seen then it’s also weird that Eren feels his eyes widen at the crude words escaping despite his professional-like demeanor because that means Eren must have had thoughts about how the man may be like.

“Eren?”

 _Though_ …

The man doesn’t mean anything to him.

“Sure!” He quickly answers her, throws his head back in exasperation at his own distraction. He regrets that immediately because the sun’s death ray seems to have it in it for him. And when he looks back, the man is gone.

“I’m heading there now, okay… My break ends at one today, though.”

__

The next day, a Thursday, Eren carefully prepares another funeral bouquet while Christa’s delicate hands move in swift precision as she binds a white silk ribbon to a dozen ruby roses (so crimson to Eren it looks like the colour of blood). They work together to get the five orders for today that needs to be complete, Christa doing most of what the bride and her party will hold and Eren the others and between them they manage to get it done quickly enough to warrant an early break.

Christa’s smiles jubilantly and Eren grins back at her.

Christa is his friend and all the other workers get along fine. Even without Armin keeping him company as a part time co-worker, Eren likes it.

Armin’s grandfather is the owner of the little shop they work in, coming in usually three times a week to survey the shop with wrinkled features but a profound eye. It is a nice place to work, Eren thinks, partly because of the older gentleman's grandfatherly presence. The place serves as a summer job now though Eren will be sure to put in a few hours every week while he’s studying. It isn’t that his family needs money, his father is a successful doctor with a well-paying job, but it is a nice experience.

While it can’t be said he doesn't enjoy the feeling of liberation of no longer needing to rely on his parents – after all, his father is doing enough for him and Mikasa by paying their tuition fees for schooling and giving them a comfortable house to live in – it is not the real reason. The methodical work where there is no one to annoy him keeps his anger issues at bay to some extent. It is Gramp’s idea for Eren to help out for precisely that reason.

_Handling the flowers here delicately, it will help you learn control._

“Hey, Eren,” Reiner’s voice cut into his thoughts.

He turns, nonchalantly taking in Reiner’s shit eating grin. It means either trouble (more times than not for Eren) or that he has a crude joke to share.

“…What?” Eren asks, grinning back despite the fact.

Instead of answering immediately, Reiner throws his head back and laughs, says something like _you should’a seen it,_ Ymir _, of all people, giving advice to Bertholdt on how to get the girl_! They talk on a little while Eren and Reiner transport the flowers into baskets and then load them into a sturdy car for delivery. Doing this kills up most of the extra time the brunet acquires so when Eren is leaving for his break it is just at his usual time.

Though he is lost in thought, his feet instinctively takes him toward the coffee shop, eyes wandering without particular aim yet brightening in sensed familiarity when he catches a face he vaguely recognizes.

He leaves the shop with a bagel and a tea and stops without any vivid awareness before where the sidewalk ends and the street begins.

A hand lightly shoves him, lets him know he is holding up the crowd.

It is only a few shops before entering his shop that his eyes catch the back of a businessman of short stature. His eyes widen a minuscule amount but as soon as he focuses on the figure he notes it definitely isn’t a person he recognizes. …it’s even on the wrong intersection.

 _That’s right_ , he thinks because he is reminded.

_That’s why today doesn’t feel the same._

_I haven’t seen him today._

It is Thursday; the one day in the week Eren never misses the man.

It's strange, almost irrational that he feels displaced from his usual state after such a trivial thing.

This should not bring about a tiny pang of loss in his heart. Yet is there any reason he keeps dwelling on it? The brunet forces himself to let the thought go. It's illogical to do otherwise.

__

 _Can you manage without us for a while_ , she asks for the both of them a few days later. Eren nods, has no choice but to nod and grins while replying with a _no problem, Christa_. But truly, he doesn't mind.

She leaves for her lunch break and Reiner for a delivery and he’s the only one left within the serenity of the budding blossoms around the charmingly decorated shop.

For once there is nothing to do that requires any immediate attention so he stands behind the counter and watches the shop with an absent sort of look. Turquoise eyes trail across the medium-sized room and dully notes which of each flower they need to order more of and which few are withering. There are two and he moves in a languish pace to around the corner to either pluck petals off or replace them. In his periphery he catches sight of a flower with the similar vivid shade of blue that the bastard Jean dares to get for his sister yesterday morning when he takes her to breakfast for their first date.

Eren doesn’t hate him – there is however, a feeling of being perturbed that has everything to do with the fact Mikasa even thinks of saying _yes_ to their insipid friend. His hand clenches without his notice and when the door of the shop rings open he doesn’t fully turn toward the potential customer, distracted with his thoughts but mechanically murmuring a quick _hello_ and _just a sec, I’ll be with you in a moment_ before he dashes across to the backroom of the store to place the two camellias.

He has to shake his head to clear his thoughts, tells himself if Mikasa genuinely likes him, all he can do is punch (or stab) some sense into the blond friend if he ever hurts her…or watch Mikasa do it and hold Jean’s arms back while it happens. Strangely, it’s that thought that sounds more satisfying out of the two.

When he returns, what catches his eye isn’t which flower the man looks at but to the rather familiar stature of the man himself – to which he certainly recognizes because it is the same back which he sees every Thursday.

Even though today is a Friday, it doesn’t change the fact Eren still recognizes him.

Crisp black blazer against a stark white peeking shirt collar, clean without even a hint of lint or discolouration, neatly brushed ebony hair an undercut, stronger shoulders than Eren cares to notice until now, short, no taller than 5’4” at best –

It is that man.

Eren’s eyes linger longer than they should before he mentally berates himself, not even knowing what to think of his own actions.

In fact, he doesn’t think, choosing to step around the counter to lean against it and address him as he would with any other customer.

“If there’s anything I can assist you with, please don’t hesitate to let me know.”

“Thanks,” the man quietly grunts back at him, the small word permitting Eren’s ear to catch the bewitching allure of a deeper voice than he expects. (For some reason it seems different with the quiet of the shop compared to the one time in the busy square.) The man turns around for the first time and Eren hasn’t even the time to hold his breath.

_What am I expecting with such reactions?_

“…Eren.” He hears, having noticed the man pause and turn solely to read the name on his tag.

Eren stares blankly.

Because the way he says it… It doesn’t quite sound right, halfway bordering across as a question as if the other man is thrown off by something. His grey eyes are wider than Eren ever has the pleasure of seeing; he knows this in his heart but tries to make sense of it even in his confusion.

“Corporal.” He says back, not knowing when the sound escapes his lips.

Or even why the word is the first that comes to him now.

A moment of intense stillness settles heavy in the room, rendering every other noise mute. Eren still almost needs to hold his breath, almost feels it is appropriate within this eerie situation.

_Fuck. How can I proceed?_

“Eren,” the man says, stronger, entirely commanding this time, demands an answer but Eren can detect a frailty in this tone. _What are you afraid of?_

Eren stares.

He wants to cry.

 _Why...is this_.

The man moves even closer, leaving a foot of space between them.

But it’s still so close it leaves his breath quickening as if there’s no area left to remain.

 _Why_.

His head aches and the pain intensified so greatly he wonders if he will die. If the pain alone will not blind him then maybe the confused chaos in his head will. Then –

“ _Corporal_ ,” he breathes out because _he remembers_.

He remembers.

At least enough of it.

The sudden tears that fill his eyes burn and he closes them, clutching the back of Levi’s suit blazer with white knuckles when they embrace tightly.

He takes a shaky breath, feels an equally strong arm clutching his back without reserve – holding him as if he is something precious.

“Eren, what–” The Corporal starts, is about to say something but Eren boldly cuts him off in a way he dares not to before, presses his lips hard against the softness of Levi’s in a kiss that becomes too clumsy with too much clashing teeth.

It doesn’t matter, the elation he feels cannot compare to wanting more than inexperienced, inept kisses. He will do it forever if it means the Corporal will be there to kiss back. If it means strong hands lock Eren’s jaw in place and Levi leans up, presses desperate open-mouthed kisses and a rush of tongue in making it hot and intense.

This time, Eren notes, the kiss is both similar and different from their last kiss. Before, it is a kiss of promise, _we will meet again, this I swear to you Ere_ n, a distinct taste of coppery blood and death being exchanged between them. _Don’t, Corporal. Don’t kiss me – please, save your breath. You’ll live this time. You have to._

 _For what reason did you place this ring on my finger then,_ he will cry at the Corporal’s pained look, sorrow clouding his teary tone as he speaks and issues demands he knows are futile. _We were going to be together after we slaughter them all, weren’t we?_

_Eren…_

_That we will be able to share more than just a few kisses._

Because this is maybe only their hundredth if they were counting. A hundred not enough.

 _That waiting two years will be worth it_. It never matters before that he hardly knows anything of the Corporal’s life, but now he regrets not asking. Not knowing more of the man or what makes the man. _Did you ever dream of the ocean, Corporal?_ He asks, fingers stoking the matted hair uncaring of the blood it drags in.

 _Eren,_ the man's breath catches painfully as he says this and Eren wipes the blood from corner of his lover's mouth. _  
_

_Don’t leave._ He says back to him even after the majority of the Corporal’s blood is covering his body like a shroud. _Stay._

_Eren._

“Stay,” he manages to repeat himself, maybe more than a thousand years later.

“Eren – for what reason did I place that ring upon your finger that time?” the older man asks this in answer and Eren's whole body is shaking. He shakes his head and brings his right hand away from Levi’s back to wipe as tenderly as he can the few tears not from his own eyes but trekking down the dark-haired man’s cheeks.

“Yes,” he breathes but he doesn’t know if it’s to Levi’s question ( _is it meant to be rhetorical?)_ or to the silent, implicit way of asking him again.

“…are you asking me again?” he says through his tears just to make sure, instantly regretting it.

Levi rolls his softly reddened eyes ( _pretty_ , Eren thinks), lightly smacking Eren’s arm without intent to hurt.

“Why am I not surprised you’re asking me that and ruining the mood? Wasn’t once enough?” he says but he’s smiling like he hasn’t done for years.

“Do you still require a ring?” he asks teasingly as he brings Eren’s knuckles to his lips. Levi makes his intention to get one anyway but it never hurts to enjoy the wide range of comical expressions clouding Eren’s face.

“Ye-no,” Eren stammers, cheeks turning a delightful shade of rouge. “I-I mean no!”

Levi laughs, laughter he’s unable to hold back bubbling from deep in his throat to break the otherwise settled silence of the flower shop. It doesn’t help that Eren’s face turns into an indignant scowl (his mostly permanent signature feature Levi remembers well) because he’s only laughing even harder. It is cathartic, it leaves his body weightless and as if, for the second time, God is truly on his side.

Everything is made beautiful once again, especially as Eren’s terrible scowl turns into the other half of the discordant and disorderly laughter that fills the room.

Levi turns, looks around the flower shop and then back at Eren, can hardly take his eyes off him.

“It was always the outside world that captivated you wasn’t it.” It is a statement but Eren eyes positively glitter in happiness that Levi remembers as much as he did.

He makes a small sound of affirmation. “Armin’s world did.”

And like it's the mention of Armin's name that brings him back to the present he remembers that Levi has wandered into this little shop not with the sole intention to kiss him but to look or buy. What a strange time to take his job seriously, he can’t help but think. Yet maybe it is what calms him and brings him back to reality.

_Why does it feel so much like a dream now?_

“Were you looking for something specific,” he asks with his arm still around Levi’s waist (he never intends to release that).

“Roses. The most beautiful ones you have. White ones.” He wants those. It is strange that the younger man knows the meaning of so many others flowers yet has never learned what the most commonly desired flower means. Roses are used everywhere, weddings, funerals. Given to lovers.

“Of course,” he says, not moving from his intertwined position with Levi but has every intention to get them for him. The absolute best he can find here even if it means they will be presented to the hands of a woman Levi loves more than Eren.

“Of course I can do that.” _Will._ _Anything._

Levi’s looking at him carefully, the ghost of his smile remaining upon his handsome features and he’s still reading Eren’s look without difficultly.

“Just two, okay? For my mother. I’m going to be seeing her today.”

Eren can’t help it. The elation and amount of relief he feels is shaming to him – he is not Levi’s keeper, after all – but also an undue disbelief settles because he’s never, never heard Corporal mention family before.

While this should serve to remind him realize how much they were and are truly strangers to each other now, he doesn’t want to think of that.

Eren takes care to make the bouquet the most beautiful one he’s ever created. Taking the two best lily-white long-stemmed roses, he takes his time adding greens with tiny lavender flowers. As he works, he ponders on why it is just two but doesn’t feel right asking.

Levi hovers behind him and keeps an arm locked around his back loosely, his chin on Eren’s hunched shoulder while steely grey orbs dance across the counter surface and follows the passionate, nervous movements of Eren’s hands. They're not pressed back to back, but Eren can acutely still feel the soft heat behind Levi's clothes. Close enough that he Inhales the subtle aroma of Levi's cologne without seeking to. It's charming.

They ignore the ring of the door in favour of selfishly wanting to hold each other for longer. Returning again with the number of the barista hitting on her everyday plastered across her Starbucks, this is how a wide-eyed Christa finds them. Levi straightens out first, nods to the petite blonde. Then planned with Eren’s closing time in mind, tells Eren he will be back for the bouquet at five and presses a couple bills into Christa’s hand before leaving. Rushing off and leaving Eren alone with her curious eyes.

Under her careful scrutiny, he blushes.

“Do you know him well, Eren?” is the first thing she asks to his relief.

“Yes,” he answers in a heartbeat, refraining from screaming hysterically like he wants to do.

“He’s my…” he trails off and Christa doesn’t mind.

__

When Levi returns for the bouquet, Eren leaves with him in a sleek black car. Levi drives with one hand and doesn’t mind that the flowers he will give to his mother are resting on Eren’s lap. He doesn’t comment on the extra tiny pink flowers almost hidden away beneath the small bouquet Eren brings with him and tries to hide. He doesn’t yet say anything concerning a destination but Eren’s heart is beating in a thrilled, nervous sort of manner because _what if this is where Corporal takes him to meet his mother_! His hand is clammy with uncomfortable sweat and he’s certain the Corporal becomes disgusted with holding it right now.

Of all places the Corporal takes him, it’s a cemetery. _That’s where my mother is_ ; the whisper lingers in his ear with a certain numbness. In this world, he’s selfishly beyond grateful that he doesn’t have to live with the pain that comes with losing his own mother again.

 _I’m sorry_ ; he says that and holds Levi’s hand tighter to show his silent support.

“One rose for my mother, the other for my father because she loved him.” Here, Levi talks, the words never-ending. _She had this garden she tended to in our backyard, all white roses. My father I barely knew. One day he disappeared, my mother thinks it’s because of drowning at sea – he was a sailor in France_. That his mother died when he was fourteen, his bad foster homes, his involvement with certain criminals, meeting _Erwin_ , getting clean, getting a degree, getting a job. _Hanji. Petra, Auruo, Erd, Gunter. Mike_. All similar yet details entirely different from what little Eren knows of the Corporal’s past life.

It saddens him to hear of the struggles.

He vows to one day learn to map out each section of Corporal’s heart as perfectly, better than his own and more so give emotionally what Corporal always gave him. Eren starts this by sharing his own life, becoming the chatterbox his friends know him for being.

A little while later, they stop talking; bathe in the lazy light of the setting sun in the horizon.

Eren places the bouquet on the gravestone gently but still clutches the single stem of the phlox in his grip and causes the black sheer ribbon he wound around it to become crooked.

Levi’s eyebrow rises and he wordlessly takes the flower he’s offered.

“For me?”

“Yeah, well…because I thought it was fitting,” Eren mumbles, worried that maybe Levi doesn’t really like the sentiment.

“Oh?”

“Because it’s a phlox…”

And in the language of flowers…

It means…

_…our souls are united._

But he leaves that part unheard, wants Levi to have to look it up himself and have more reasons to come back to him. Watches as the man brings the flower to his nose and inhales curiously. Then a second time.

“Corporal…”

“Promise me.” He says, not defining what he wants promised to him. Eren doesn’t even know himself.

But details are unnecessary schematics and they will figure it out together. “Yeah…brat,” Levi responds and Eren has to turn in his arm to hide his face in Levi’s neck to hide his nostalgia at the term.


End file.
